Unlike this kaleidoscope of a month, this post will be mostly brown.
I decided to grow squash next year. I wanted to grow it this year, but was too greedy for real estate within the safety of the deer netting. Squash was too sprawl-y, compared with the more restrained, mannerly vegetables. I was certain the deer would eat anything that I really really wanted. So I resigned myself to opening my wallet for kabochas, butternuts, spaghettis, and acorns.
Then….a volunteer gourd vine from last year’s garden appeared on my hillside, and…
...the deer left it alone!
That was all the encouragement I needed. I secured permission from Artist Husband (No, I don’t have more than one husband. Just adding the qualifier so you don’t think I’m married to Controller Husband.), who’s only request for the astounding garden he dug for me was, “It has to look good.”
His definition of attractiveness is different than mine (think espalier versus borage) and apparently his definition is more universal than mine. (“If you didn’t plant things that look like weeds, the garden crew wouldn’t keep weed-whacking them down,” says he, after the third time the crew leveled my monarda bed.)
So I asked. Squash vines? On the hill behind the garden? Permission was granted with one condition. “Don’t make me eat them.”
Done!
So here is the Before photo:
Gentle slope, tipped towards the east. Perfect!
I cleared the weeds, and scraped out three large circles in the dirt:
The circles are roughly 3-4 feet in diameter.
My idea was to create three squash hills that began their careers as mini-compost heaps.
Coiling up the green part of the biomass, in this case the volunteer gourd vine that gave me the idea to grow squash here in the first place.
And then adding the brown of the compost mix:
In this case, the leftover straw from the bales I'd bought to cover my garden paths.
I’m hoping these heaps will start cooking and breaking down over the winter. Here are my three beautiful heaped hills:
I will add one more layer to these three hills: green and brown, and then, off they go, into the winter!
In the spring, I will add a layer of top soil, and then the fun begins. I will plant each hill with squash seeds. What will I choose?! Kabocha is a certainty. Butternut, maybe. Hubbards? The name alone warrants a close look. Acorns? Possibly. Spaghetti squash? Likely.
I will let you know, of course.
WORDS FROM OTHERS
Now in the east
the white bean
and the great squash
are tied with the rainbow.
Listen! the rain’s drawing near!
The voice of the bluebird is heard.
— Navaho Indian Chant, Songs in the Garden of the House God
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